


It's Hard

by s1ranksinner



Series: Cats and House Plants [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Depression, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1ranksinner/pseuds/s1ranksinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo loves Oikawa, with absolutely everything that brings and entails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Hard

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series I want to do of Oikawa and Kuroo's relationship from high school to college. Maybe after. I don't know. Please be aware that this has talk of depression and stuff. Self harm in Oikawa's way where he works himself too hard. Not anything physical. I decided to write this because I'm struggling with depression right now, and I can't imagine what it's like when you try to help. So hey, here's me imagining what it's like.

Kuroo rolled on the bed again, feeling lazy but not tired enough to go to sleep. It was late, late enough that they probably should have already eaten dinner and tucked themselves in with their notes, but as usual, it was ten on a Thursday night and Oikawa was still prancing around in his post shower happiness.

Kuroo never could bring himself to actually _make_ Oikawa do anything, which was why he always gave when Oikawa pouted, “Please shower with me,” instead of being responsible and starting on dinner. It was a routine he enjoyed, even if he hated himself for the first few seconds every morning before he stuck his nose in Oikawa’s soft brown hair and kissed him awake.

Oikawa was wandering around now, looking lost and a little desperate, obviously having forgotten what he was going to do. Kuroo snickered into the mattress, trying to hide his laughter. Oikawa really was breathtaking, but when he was hunched over, walking in circles in the kitchen, his snot green alien pajama bottoms and loose crop top looked mismatched and out of place. It was Oikawa’s confidence that pulled it off and without it he was just a hungry, confused college student in a way too small apartment for two men of their size.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, pretty boy?” Kuroo asked from the edge of the bed, trying his best to look smug even though he was belly down in a pair of ratty old gym shorts. If Oikawa wanted to, he could kick Kuroo’s ass, but he tried not to think about that, relying on his charm and the love of his boyfriend to save him.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Kuroo, mid step, shoulders still hunched, nose scrunched, and sniffed. _Sniffed_ at Kuroo. He rose to his full height, perching his hands on his hip, and closed his eyes, not even looking in Kuroo’s direction.

“I,” he declared, “am going to make dinner! But- but I can’t find…”

Oikawa trailed off again, frame folding in on him back to the same worried, not-good-for-his-back stance. He got like this sometimes. Oikawa had the awful habit of working himself too hard, sacrificing sleep and free time for extracurriculars, volleyball, grades, physical therapy – the list went on and on.

Kuroo sat up on the bed, folding his legs up underneath him to watch Oikawa ruffle through one of the piles of paper that Cannot Be Moved or Touched before moving onto the next one. He frowned, rubbing his face, trying to find the words to pull Oikawa from… Whatever it was that he was beginning to panic over.

Oikawa growled under his breath now, running his hands through his hair, yanking through a knot. It was time for Kuroo to intervene, he knew that, but he was still adjusting to Oikawa’s stress. His tics and buttons and what was okay and what made him angry because it hurt something raw he’d left untouched inside for too long.

Kuroo watched as he huffed and spun on his heel, going to the closet now. At Oikawa’s high school graduation, Iwaizumi had made Kuroo promise to take care of him. He’d warned him of Oikawa’s moods and his constant self-loathing. He’d told him it was unhealthy and that Oikawa was prone to hurting himself one way or another as some roundabout way of punishing himself.

He looked around the room now, Oikawa’s stacks of paper, which he thumbed through several times a day (when he was even home,) the extra bag of trash no one had taken out because they always, _always_ stayed up too late and didn’t wake up in time to take it out, the pile of laundry that needed to be done – that Kuroo should have done earlier instead of play Elder Scrolls Online with Kenma.

Yeah, real knock up job he was doing maintaining a healthy, loving environment.

He studied his hands now, counting backwards from ten to calm down and think of a strategy. He traced the callouses on his left hand from where, yeah, he was ambidextrous, but he still blocked more with his left, and hit more with his right. A blister from too many pull ups from when Bo was in town a few days ago. Distracting him from what he needed to think about.

Oikawa needed attention and someone that was both firm and loving in their advice and affection, and Kuroo had let him steamroll him with his big brown eyes and the warm plane of his chest and the curve of his back and those soft, soft lips. He’d just laid right down and given up all control, and while it made Oikawa incredibly happy, those big highs had some very rough lows.

Every time Kuroo tried to stop him when he got like this, he met resistance. It wasn’t like Kenma where he could persist and joke and gently pull enough, and it would be ok. Oikawa was a force. If he didn’t want you to do something, he’d let you know.

The last time had ended in a yelling match and Oikawa staying at the library until it closed. He didn’t come home that night. He just slept in his car for the few hours between when he passed out from studying and his morning class, and then he came home, breezing by Kuroo like nothing had happened.

That was a lie, though. They talked about it later that night, and it was a hard, throbbing thing, whatever it was that gnawed at Oikawa. It was like a snare around his ankle. If Oikawa would just sit still and call for help, Kuroo – Hell, anyone – would come running and cut him loose. But no. Oikawa pulled and tugged, worrying the skin until it was infected and stinging. That was what was buried in him.

Kuroo thought maybe if he was patient he could get close, that maybe Oikawa, like a buck, eyeing him through his antlers, would raise his head. Let Kuroo get close enough to pull that snare off without getting gored.

He looked within himself to find what it was about Oikawa that he loved. His laughter, the real genuine kind that made him cry and gasp for air. The way he kissed Kuroo’s chest after sex, pulling in close before he fell asleep. The trust in his eyes when he let Kuroo massage his knee.

Kuroo let those memories bubble up and push down the tears that were threatening to make him look like an idiot and made the decision he’d been agonizing over for the past few months.

He loved Oikawa, and he was ready to commit. He loved him more than he hated the fight he knew would come.

Kuroo stood, stretching, and walked over to the closet Oikawa was now completely inside. There was a pile of boxes and clothes that was steadily growing bigger. Kuroo nudged it with his toe, already feeling tired and upset.

“Oikawa,” he said softly. Oikawa was cursing now – yanking at empty hangers that had gotten stuck together. There were so many of them since most of their clothes were in the neglected pile by the washer.

“Tooru,” Kuroo insisted, stroking a gentle knuckle down Oikawa’s shoulder before he rubbed his palm down his back, trying to make it a soothing touch.

Oikawa’s angry muttering increased in volume as he yanked at the hangers harder, and Kuroo began to worry he might pull the bar out of the wall.

“Stop.”

Kuroo reached around him, fitting one arm around his waist and snaking his other hand up to still Oikawa’s violent assault on a couple triangular pieces of plastic.

Tooru’s cursing got louder, punctuated from time to time with Kuroo’s name before he pulled out of Kuroo’s grip to round on him.

“What?!”

Kuroo took a step back reflexively, instinctively bringing his arms up to a position of surrender. Oikawa’s chest was heaving, and his face was a bit colored, high up on his cheek bones. His eyes were a similar color, red and pink. He was about to cry, it looked like.

Kuroo wasn’t sure what kind of expression he had on his face, but he could see the way Oikawa’s shoulders fell that he hadn’t been as impassive as he had tried for.

“Tetsu, God. I’m so sorry,” he cried, hoarse and sobbing, reaching for Kuroo. Kuroo let him come at his own pace, wrapping his arms around him slowly. He was so small. When did he get that skinny?

Already there were tears rolling down his chest and back from where Oikawa had his face pressed against Kuroo’s shoulder. He shushed him quietly, moving his hands in slow, big circles when Oikawa let out another strangled sob. The fool had already managed to get himself sick earlier that week, so it was even more pitiful now. After just a few seconds of crying, Oikawa could barely breathe, and Kuroo led him to the bed to retrieve the box of tissues from the nightstand.

“Here,” he whispered, holding the tissue to Oikawa’s nose, brushing back his bangs until he decided it was a moot point. He gave a fresh tissue to Oikawa and gathered a few hair clips from the bathroom. He’d barely been gone a second, but Oikawa was on his fourth tissue, and Kuroo could swear with the size of the tears coming out of Oikawa’s eyes, he probably couldn’t see anything.

He smoothed back Oikawa’s bangs again, pinning them back in a line. It was messy, but cute. Something Oikawa would never let anyone see aside from him in this awful, horrible moment of Oikawa’s breakdown.

Kuroo tried to help as much as he could, trailing his fingers down the sides of Oikawa’s face, leaving soft kisses along his cheeks and nose, ignoring the salt and heartbreaking whines. Oikawa giggled occasionally, but it was always followed with another cry.

It wasn’t a few tears here and there, Oikawa was in so much pain, he was sobbing quietly, choking on snot when he finally sucked down some air. Kuroo felt his heart break. His jaw was getting sore. He was tense all over.

He felt useless.

With a sigh, he sat down next to his boyfriend, pulling him to his chest. He managed to work them both up to the top of the bed, where he could lean back a little more easily. He cradled Oikawa’s head, rocking back and forth.

“I’m here. I’m here for you. I’ve got you.”

He finished each promise with a kiss to that soft brown hair that was stuffed up his nose every morning.

At some point, the sobs came to a stop. Oikawa still shook occasionally, but he had curled himself around Kuroo, and that made him feel better. Kuroo continued to rock him until Oikawa was still and resumed cleaning himself up. There was a little mountain of tissues forming between Kuroo’s legs, but he let it happen, moving a hand to Oikawa’s leg to rub along his thigh.

“’M sorry,” Oikawa said, voice strange and different since he was all stopped up, doubly so now after this.

“It’s ok,” Kuroo promised, kissing lips rubbed raw. They felt as chapped as they looked, and Kuroo disentangled himself enough to reach for the water bottle on the night stand.

“Here you go,” he murmured. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Oikawa had some difficulty drinking, having to pause often to blow his nose. He cried a few times out of frustration, but Kuroo sat with him through it, wiping off the dribble on his chin or patting at the few escaped tears.

When the water bottle was empty, Oikawa scooted away to give Kuroo a little room, and they both stretched. They locked eyes as they tilted in the same direction to work out the cramp they had apparently both gotten, and then they were both laughing and crying.

It was hard to tell which way was up, Kuroo was so happy. It was a weird happiness, where all the stress in his body and heart finally dissipated like it always did when he was with Oikawa and Oikawa was okay again.

“I was pretty stupid earlier,” Oikawa admitted finally, twisting his fingers around Kuroo’s.

“Don’t say that,” Kuroo whispered, moving closer so he could rest his forehead against Oikawa’s. “You’re the smartest man I know.”

Oikawa smiled shyly, eyes red rimmed and puffy when they looked up at him from under the uneven swoop of brown hair and multicolored hair clips, and Kuroo felt a swell of love. Something so overwhelming that it was hard to breathe. He thought he might cry again. Concern pinched between Oikawa’s eyebrows.

“Hey, what’s wrong,” he asked, fingers running through Kuroo’s hair, pulling at the tufts Kuroo was sure were probably in every direction now.

“I love you.”

It was true. But he had never said it to Oikawa before.

There were a few breaths, noisy and through Oikawa’s mouth since his nose was full, and then Oikawa was crying again, pressing his face into the sheets.

“I love you, too. Tetsu, what the fuck. I love you, too.”

Kuroo laughed, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he admonished. “You’re not supposed to cry! You’re supposed to swoon, and then I’m supposed to come and-,“ he flexed his arms, Oikawa reaching down to squeeze appreciatively, “hold you in my big, strong arms before we make out and hug.”

Oikawa lost it at that, rolling on his back before coughing, grabbing a few more tissues and handing two to Kuroo.

“You doof,” he coughed, tears still streaming, but he looked happy, Kuroo thought.

“That’s not a word,” Kuroo teased, pitching forward to push Oikawa back, kissing him the whole way down.

“Ew, I’m not going to kiss you while you’re all gross and wet, Tetsu!” Oikawa cried between the raspberries Kuroo was blowing on his neck.

Oikawa’s complaints died down to giggles and kisses of increased intensity until Oikawa was back on Kuroo’s chest, their heads at the foot of the bed now, tissues in the sheets and the floor, probably. They were gross and snotty, and Kuroo had stopped caring about the very full tissue pile under his left butt cheek while he stroked his thumb across Oikawa’s bony shoulder blade.

“You’ve lost weight,” he observed. Oikawa hummed a makeshift yes, snuggling closer into Kuroo’s body. His nose was cold.

“You need to wear more clothes around the apartment,” Kuroo said, pressing a couple fingers to Oikawa’s nose, hoping he wasn’t hurting the rubbed raw skin.

“Just keep me warm, meanie. What good is a big old cat anyways?”

Kuroo smiled and let that one slide, kissing Oikawa’s forehead. He closed his eyes, mustering up what little strength he had, finding it to be more than he had anticipated.

“Tooru,” he said gently, looking down to find Oikawa’s hand in their tangle of limbs. Oikawa offered it up easily, and they touched their fingertips together lightly like they were mapping out their skin for the first time.

“I know,” came Oikawa’s nasally response. “We need to talk.”

Kuroo nodded, but realized Oikawa couldn’t see that from his position on Kuroo’s chest, so he grunted what he hoped sounded like an affirmative sound.

“I don’t know why I get like this,” Oikawa admitted, now wrapping his long, thin fingers around Kuroo’s, eyes transfixed on the way Kuroo’s curled around his. He was so beautiful like this. He looked up at Kuroo, then, the full brunt of those eyes, so honest, turned to him.

Kuroo wanted to squirm or look away. They were dancing around a topic he wasn’t sure how to broach. Not for the first time, he wished he could read Oikawa like he could read Kenma or Bokuto. But that was part of what made this hard. Part of what made it fun. He had to learn Tooru’s language. He had to learn how to love him patiently and completely, not just the rise in affection now and again, but the ability to sense the shift in the air or the press of his foot against Kuroo’s. What it meant when Oikawa turned his back to Kuroo when they were meeting people that Oikawa didn’t like.

At long last, Oikawa looked away, shifting so that he could prop his head up under his arm and face Kuroo more easily. Kuroo moved, too, wanting the contact. He smiled at the way their skin was pressed together, their bare feet against legs, Oikawa’s arm around Kuroo’s waist, his leg around Kuroo’s hip.

Lots of Oxytocin. He chuckled and shared that oxytocin was a chemical released when you touched other people promoting happiness and bonding, and Oikawa rolled his eyes, snorting through his mouth in a strange makeshift laugh that had Kuroo whooping with laughter.

They quieted back down, and moved closer, almost too close to be able to comfortably look each other in the eye.

“Tetsu,” Oikawa started, playing with the hair on the back of Kuroo’s neck. “I’ll see someone, okay?”

Kuroo felt a bit like he’d been punched. It was a thought that hadn’t been vocalized. A passing thing Iwaizumi had mentioned. A few words about Oikawa that rang through. Hard working. Beautiful. Trophies. Determined.

Depression.

Kuroo knew Oikawa had never been treated for it, but he hadn’t pushed. He did his best for him, looking up and bookmarking literally pages of How to Help and What to Do that had told him a few things but not enough. Like how to comfort someone you love through the door when they’ve locked themselves in the bathroom and they’re crying, but you can’t get to them.

Kuroo was pretty sure he let out a small ‘okay,’ and he saw the fear in Oikawa’s eyes. There was a lot of fear and trust, and Kuroo steeled himself because he loved this man and he wasn’t going to let him down.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one chapter work. The next few works will be up as I update. You are welcome to talk to me on twitter at kettlewhistlss or tumblr at abbybabbles or artbyabbybabbles, where I post my original stuff.


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